


Crazy is a relative term

by thefatesallow (comewhatmay)



Category: Glee
Genre: Hummel-Anderson House, M/M, No spoilers beyond aired episodes, future!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:50:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comewhatmay/pseuds/thefatesallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So she walked in on her dads making out in a car and war hammers put in a guest appearance. Just another ordinary day in the Hummel-Anderson household.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crazy is a relative term

**Author's Note:**

> Because Kurt and Blaine are engaged and they are gonna get married and one day they'll go strolling through Central Park with their bichon frise, narrating the story of Prince Warbler and his Teenage Dream to their kids (◕‿◕✿)
> 
> You would think an episode about Kurt getting a tattoo and a tongue-piercing and being shirtless (!!) and getting cyber-lucky would send my brain zooming straight to porny things. But nope. Babies! I have absolutely no idea. Hope you enjoy! :) I may turn this into a verse!
> 
> P.S. Kurt is Dad and Blaine is Papa/Pops :D
> 
> Also at: [ Tumblr ](http://thefatesallow.tumblr.com/post/67337438645/fic-crazy-is-a-relative-term) || [ LJ ](http://thefatesallow.livejournal.com/3242.html)

Julia glances out the front-room window again for the umpteenth time in the past half-hour and sighs deeply.

This is _so_ not how she wanted to be spending a Saturday night. She _could_ be out like all the other almost-seventeen year olds, getting sloshed and grinding up against football jocks, but _noooo_. Instead she’s stuck babysitting while her _dads_ are out on a _date_.

She guesses it’s cute that they still do romantic crap together after being married for like, a million years. It’s nice to know her parents are still desperately in love and stuff. But they were _supposed_ to be back twenty minutes ago and they still aren’t, so she can’t even go up to her room and mope her lost Saturday in peace while singing along to her vintage Lady Gaga album.

Life is so unfair.

She doesn’t understand why they don’t make _Hayden_ babysit when they go on one of their little trysts. The stupid brat is almost fourteen. He’s totally old enough to be babysitting.

She goes into the living room, still grouching mentally. And freezes when she takes in the scene before her.

She kneads her forehead. _That_ is why they don’t make Hayden babysit.

All she asked him to do was feed Linette. That is the _only_ job she gave him this evening. Not potty duty. Not reading the stories. Not even when Linette wanted to play hairdresser and Julia sat in front of her for an hour while the little three year old absolutely ruined her hair, chattering happily with a cute baby lisp the whole time.

(Okay maybe Julia _liked_ that part. She likes hanging out with her adorable baby sister. Linette is still learning how to talk, and with her wide hazel eyes and blonde princess curls, she is the _cutest_ thing on the planet.)

But Hayden on the other hand…

“What the hell, Hayden?” she yells in exasperation; her brother is an _idiot_.

“What?” Hayden says distractedly, zooming a little spoon like an airplane towards Linette’s open mouth. Linette swallows and giggles, snorting out a good portion of the ketchup in the process, spattering herself and the floor and oh god, the _brand new cream-white carpet_. Dad’s gonna lose a kidney when he gets home.

“I told you to feed her, not bathe her in pasta!” Julia yells. “And why are you both on the living room floor?! That’s what Linette’s feeding chair and the dining room with the splash-resistant paint are for!”

“Jeez, you sound just like Dad,” he says with an eyeroll, zooming another spoonful of pasta at Linette. She grasps it with her fingers, giggling happily, sending pasta flying everywhere. _Christ._ “There is an Avengers marathon on HBO! I wasn’t gonna miss it feeding the little monster.”

Julia snorts in anger, going to fetch stain remover and a mop.

“I don’t think Pop knew about it or he’d have totes ditched Dad and sat down to watch with me.” Hayden says, eyes glued to the TV screen. “It’s a true _classic_ , man!”

On the screen, a buff dude smashes people’s faces with a flying hammer while yelling. A classic indeed. Julia rolls her eyes, snapping on cleaning gloves.

Hayden vaguely holds out the last spoonful of food in Linette’s general direction and it miraculously all lands in her mouth and not on the carpet. Small mercies.

“Yeah, I’m sure Dad would’ve _totes_ let Papa cancel their date to marathon superhero movies,” Julia retorts sarcastically.

Dad is the king of high-maintenance diva fits. The Hummel-Anderson kids learned early to scarper to their rooms and leave Papa to his fate whenever Dad got started.

Julia scrubs the floor and manages to get most of the stain out of the carpet, grumbling the whole time. Hayden and Linette are both sitting with mouths wide open, watching the myriad explosions and mayhem on the television screen.

They’re both adorned by huge globs of pasta. Julia hates life.

“ _Please_ go take a bath before Dad and Papa get home,” she growls when she spots a commercial break.

Hayden runs, hurrying so he can get back before the break is over, scooping up a squealing Linette. She hears him stomping around in the bathroom and more of Linette’s squeals and sighs.

When her dads get back, she’s going to have a firm talk about increasing the money they bribe her to babysit.

She scrubs one last time, sits back to ensure she didn’t miss anything. The living room looks clean as always and holds no evidence of a pasta explosion, apart from a few nearly-undetectable spots on the cream-white carpet.

Phew.

She shoves the cleaning supplies into their respective closets and washes up before going back to the living room. Hayden and Linette are already back in front of the TV, engrossed in the movie and thankfully pasta-free. Hayden actually even remembered to scrub behind his own and Linette’s ears.

Well, it’s a start.

She glances at the clock, eyebrows crunching together when she notes the time.

It’s nearly forty-five minutes later now, than when Dad and Papa said they would be home. She is kinda starting to feel worried now. They usually get home when they say they would.

She walks to the front-window, peering out again and her eyes land on a familiar black car. She feels her face splits in a grin. _Finally_.

Except – they’re not getting out. She waits, parting the curtains more to see better, frowning in confusion. A few minutes pass and they still don’t emerge from the car.

Why would the not be getting out? Unless… they’re in _trouble_.

A million horrifying scenarios (probably all illogical, but hey it could _happen_ okay, aliens _could_ invade earth and kidnap people) pass through her head.

“Hayden, if I’m not back in ten minutes, call the police!” she yells, grabbing a baseball bat and brandishing it dramatically, readying herself to defend her dads against whatever force of evil may be keeping them.

“Uhgh,” Hayden grunts in reply. He’s shovelling popcorn into his open mouth, doesn’t even look away from the screen.

She may be marching to her _death_ , seriously. When she gets back, she’s giving him a wedgie on behalf of sisters everywhere.

Julia walks out of the house and towards the parked car, carefully scanning the surroundings, baseball bat held high and ready. She can’t see anything inside the car. Dad got those tinted car windows installed after one too many times of paparazzi harassing them. And besides, it’s dark.

Julia squints and shuffles her feet, trying to think what to do when she hears a _groan_ from inside the car. And it sounds like Papa.

That’s it.

“I’m coming to save you, Dads!” she yells, running heroically towards the car and yanks the passenger-side door open, bat raised to take on whatever it is and –

Papa’s head tumbles backwards and rests on the passenger seat, blinking up at her upside down. Dad’s straddling him and looking up at her too, mouth open wordlessly, one hand on Papa’s shirt buttons and _are their pants undone_ …?

Oh my god.

“ _Oh my god.”_ She lowers the bat, staring in absolute horror.

“Um. Hey Jules,” Papa says sheepishly, still upside down, his blush visible even in the dim light. “We were just – “ Dad shifts a little over him and Papa’s voice breaks off into a choked, breathy groan.

“Oh my _god_!” Julia whimpers and she does what any brave young woman greeted with the sight of her dads humping in a car would do.

She turns and flees.

Once inside, she dives between Hayden and Linette, cuddling close to her siblings. She needs the protection of human shields.

Also brain bleach. Stat.

She’s contemplating the merits of falling down the stairs to try give herself amnesia when her parents traipse in.

Papa’s still blushing furiously, his expression sheepish, while Dad’s got this weirdly smug half-smirk on his face that she’s seen him do a lot in the mornings and – oh my god _is this what that face means_?!

This is ridiculous, her life is _ridiculous_.

Time to escape.

“We all had dinner, Linette’s had a bath and I’m going up to my room now, bye!” she says in one breath, jumping to her feet and taking off at a run.

Papa calls after her, but Hayden chooses that moment to yell “Pops! There’s an Avengers marathon!” really loudly and she experiences one of those rare moments in life when she’s actually thankful for her idiot brother’s existence.

She makes a safe getaway and closes her bedroom door with a snap, listening for signs of pursuit, but there seem to be none.

Sagging with relief, she closes her eyes and leans against the door. Unbidden, the visual of Papa’s hand rucking up Dad’s shirt and the flashes of their underwear floats through her brain.

Gah. _Brain bleach_.

She snaps her eyes open, running to find the DVD for that movie about sparkly vampires (apparently one of Dad’s teenage obsessions). It’s the closest thing to brain bleach invented by mankind.

She should have known they wouldn’t let her get away with it.

It’s an hour later when Dad comes in, bearing two glasses of warm milk and his we’re-gonna-have-a-lady-chat expression. She pauses the movie with a sigh, giving in to the inevitable. Maybe if it’s quick, she can avoid a painful death caused by utter mortification.

“God I used to have the hugest crush on him in high school,” Dad says with a grin, holding out a glass of warm milk to her and gesturing with his head towards the screen. The muscly werewolf boy is staring woefully at the heroine, shirtless as usual.

“Number 5 on my bucket list as a teenager,” Dad continues, settling in beside her, “was to have relations with him in a dewy meadow of lilac before he gets fat. I changed my mind once I met your Papa, of course. He looks much better shirtless, anyway.”

_Why._

“Daaaaaaaad,” she groans, looking up from her glass. “Haven’t you scarred me enough for one day?”

He gives her this impish little grin that is an exact replica of Hayden’s and Julia rolls her eyes. She is surrounded by imbeciles. Woe is her life.

“This is actually worse than that time you both tried to give me a sex talk,” she grumbles. “And drank half a bottle of alcohol from nerves and rambled to me about your first time instead. In _detail_. And then Papa got over-emotional and you both started making out on the couch yelling I love you’s in each other’s faces.”

Dad snorts out a laugh.

“I’m glad you find it funny,” Julia sniffs, tilting up her nose. “Psychologically torturing your children is a federal offence!”

“I’m sorry honey,” he squeaks out, still laughing. “I was just remembering that time I walked in on your grandpa and grandma in their kitchen once and –“

“Oh my god stop,” Julia screeches, diving for the pillows and covering her ears. “Stop stop! We eat Christmas dinner in that kitchen! You’re ruining _Christmas_.”

“There there,” he’s saying fondly above her, patting her hair. “I was just trying to point out that walking in your parents in various states of coitus is practically a rite of passage.”

“I’m gonna just lie here and pretend you didn’t use the words ‘parents’ and ‘coitus’ in the same sentence,” she says into her pillow. “You’re not helping my brain bleach session!”

He’s laughing again. She turns onto her back and glares up at him.

“What were you both even _doing_ anyway? You’re like, fifty years old! Most teenagers don’t have to worry about walking in on their parents making out in a car, you know!”

“We are both barely forty-four, thank you very much,” Dad sniffs superiorly. “And _very_ well-preserved for our age, if you must know.”

“I’d rather not know,” Julia replies hurriedly.

“And we’re not most parents, sweetie.”

“Aren’t I aware,” Julia mumbles, thinking about all the times she’s walked into a room and found Papa twerking while doing the house chores.

“And to answer your first question,” he says with a naughty grin. Oh no. “We were reminiscing.”

“Right.”

“We had a _wonderful_ date,” he continues dreamily. “You papa took me to this karaoke bar we used to go to in college and sang to me. Just like in the good old days…”

“Uh-huh.”

“And it was so beautifully nostalgic, brought back all the memories...”

“That’s nice.

“And we just fell into the _other_ things we usually did at the end of a date… in some pretty strange places too…”

“… I see.”

“We always got back looking like ‘Prom: the morning after’. And those prom nights were _wild_ , let me tell you…”

“Okay! You can stop sharing now!”

There’s a beat of silence while they both stare at each other and suddenly she’s giggling, flopping on her side. Her dad flops next to her, joins her giggling.

“You are the absolute _worst_!” she exclaims, batting at him weakly, trying to draw breath.

“I know, honey. Sometimes I wonder why on earth I thought I could handle being a _parent_. I killed every goldfish I owned.”

“Well you haven’t killed any of us yet,” Julia jokes. “And you’ve got Papa to help you out. I’ll say you’re both doing just fine.”

She turns and gives him a warm smile. He leans down to kiss her forehead and smiles back before settling back comfortably on her bed.

It’s nice.

“So where’s Papa anyway,” she asks, clicking the play button so the movie starts up again. “I thought he’d be hovering here all night, making sad puppy eyes and being all awkward and sheepish.”

“He got distracted by the Avengers,” Dad says with an eyeroll, reaching for some popcorn and popping it into his mouth. “And Hayden called up your Uncle Sam, so he’s here too. With his DVDs. They’re starting it over from the _first_.”

He gives a long-suffering sigh and Julia eyerolls back at him in sympathy and solidarity.

“We should save Linette from that mess,” Julia says seriously. “So they don’t infect her too.”

“It’s already too late,” Dad replies, looking gravely into her eyes. “Last I saw her, she was running around in a towel-cape yelling ‘Mjolnir!’ at the mini-toolbox.”

“No!” Julia says in mock horror and they keep it up for two seconds before they simultaneously crack up.

“Oh my god, did you get a video of that? That is so _cute_!” Julia squeals.

“I saw Sam recording it and Blaine shedding proud tears when I came up,” Dad gasps back, wiping his eyes. “I think they’ve got it covered.”

There’s a loud crash from downstairs and sounds of Papa and Sam yelling while Linette’s shrill baby voice screeches ‘Mjolnir!’ over the mayhem.

“She has a really good set of lungs,” Julia notes.

“Yeah doesn’t she?” Dad says conversationally; Hayden’s yelling now too and there’s another crash from downstairs. “I was thinking of getting a vocal coach for her.”

“Sam, grab that hammer from her! _Grab that hammer_!” Papa’s voice yells from below.

“So… Sound of Music sing-a-long?” Julia asks casually.

“Sound of Music sing-a-long,” Dad agrees.

And they have a Sound of Music sing-a-long, with a background score of explosions, manly yelling and a three-year old’s screeches for a war hammer.

Just another ordinary day in the Hummel-Anderson house.


End file.
